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Strange Dinners

I eat strange dinners – if I can call them that.

One moment it is chapati – dry and hard,

with boiled egg, mango and avocado,

and, with a sneaky sense of bravado,

wash all down with tickled red wine

Another moment, when I decide to dine,

it is carrot, banana and hesitant yogurt

downed with soothing tea – how awkward!

At other times, it is calm curled-up croissant

with tangerine, tea and apple– quite pleasant!

 

But the dish I would really like to eat is not so chic:

It’s to chew and swallow mysterious thoughts like a mystic.

I will not use my teeth; no, the tongue is a better tool

for it allows the taste to last longer; a cure for my drool.

I would wash this down with sips of my lungs

but only if anger assaults me in waves of hunger pangs.

Else, I prefer to bath my dinner in pulses of my heart.

Dinner eaten this way obviates the need for dessert.

And it matters not if the thoughts are ripe or raw;

the taste will be good and true – ’cause my mum said so.

Picture of Kap Kirwok

Kap Kirwok

Kap Kirwok (Kap) creatively combines his duties as a writer and strategist to contemplate the mysteries of the human experience. He writes not to sell but to tell tales to himself.